The World Is Too Much With Us
by x Miss I x
Summary: Spoilers for Series 3, Episode 5. Set a week after the "incident". Matthew and Mary have some matters they need to resolve and are finally on the same page. Just something I had in my head. Can't say too much here for spoilers.


**I'll admit, I've only seen 3x05 once, it wasn't my favourite episode, but I immediately had my own thoughts and opinions of it (as did many). ****I decided to write them in the form of my own scene, involving Matthew and Mary, a week after the tragic event.**

**So basically this is an M/M scene set a week after Sybil's death.**

**The title is from the William Wordsworth poem ****_'The World Is Too Much With Us'_****.**

**This is unlikely to happen in the story unfortunately, (well we never know), but until I know M/M get a satisfactory outcome tomorrow, I created my own scenario :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I unfortunately have no official power over the Downton Abbey characters or their storylines. They belong to Carnival Films, ITV and Julian Fellowes. **

**xxx**

* * *

How could this happen? How could she possibly let this happen?

She stared down into the fresh grave, the flowers embellishing the cold dark hues of the soil. Her baby sister lay under there; darling Sybil.

The sister who touched her heart the way no one else could. The sister she'd sworn to look out for, gone forever; never to brighten the halls of Downton with her fresh perspective on life. The woman who knew Mary more than she knew herself would never grace this earth again.

How she missed her!

How strong and capable dear Sybil was, but how weak and helpless in the end. Never before had she witnessed such a tragic end. Not even with Lavinia. She could wish that on no one. But Sybil? Oh the world was cruel! What had her sister done to deserve such a fate? Happy, hopeful Sybil, so full of life and with so much to give.

The anger that had been coursing through Mary's veins that past week had been unbearable, but was slowly dissipating as her sorrow and fatigue continued to engulf her. Her sleep had undoubtedly been poor since Sybil's death, as the tragic event repeated itself over and over again in her mind, a constant reminder of that terrible moment.

She had been helpless to Sybil during her end, offering futile help. What a failure she had been to the sister who was always so helpful to her. All she could do was offer to wash her sister's forehead as she watched her fight for life. How much more she wished she could have done for her!

How was she to overcome this tragedy? How were they all too?

The house had not been the same. How could it? A vital member would always be missing. A vital part of her heart would always be missing; a void that could never be filled in the same way.

Mary had to be strong for them, for all of them. That was her duty. Lady Mary Crawley was the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Grantham. She did not crumble. She would not. She could not. They needed her. She needed them. She needed to get her family through this. Not just the Crawley family, but the Branson's; for Tom and baby Sybil. How painful it was to say that name but how magical at the same time. Sybil may be gone in this life but she still lives, in such an important way. A new life to love and value, to nurture and watch grow, in Sybil's memory and as Sybil's legacy.

Sybil and Tom had plans for the baby and she would fight with all the strength she had to see her sister's wishes come true; and Tom's. Her brother-in-law had lost his wife, the woman he loved more than anything. But he was a father now. The only parent baby Sybil had left. Mary knew the conflict between Tom and her father would only escalate further. She couldn't have that.

Oh papa!

She respected him and loved him dearly. He had lost his youngest daughter. What a terrible time for him. But she would not relinquish her quest to fulfil Tom and Sybil's wishes. Also, what of mama, who had also lost her youngest child? Mama had always been emotional but her pain and anguish was unbearable, and utterly heart-breaking to watch. Yet, mama was also Sybil's biggest champion.

Mary took in a deep, calming breath, to collect her thoughts and try to compose herself.

In the corner of her eye she could see a figure standing at the entrance of the cemetery and subsequently walk slowly towards her. Still, she could not draw her eyes away from Sybil's grave. Even when the person stood right by her side, she didn't move.

"I thought I saw you, as I was walking past," a deep, gentle voice spoke beside her, adding warmth to the cold thoughts in her mind.

"I wanted to see Sybil," Mary replied simply, with a small nod. She needed to see Sybil.

"Of course," Matthew nodded, turning to look at his wife. His strong, brave wife, who in the past week had retreated further into herself. He knew why, of course he did, but naturally that didn't stop him from worrying about her. She always took the burden of the family, as well as her own, on her shoulders. He admired her resilience, but wished to God he could do something for her that she would allow him to do. But he understood that she needed space, and he loved her so very much. He would do anything she asked.

They remained silent for a few moments, taking in the strange peacefulness of the cemetery. Birds sang softly and the leaves rustled in the trees, creating a cool breeze which surrounded them, which had a surprisingly calming effect.

"I walked to see mother," Matthew said, breaking the silence. "I was just on my way back now."

He looked at her, studying her face. She looked so pale, much paler than usual, almost frozen. How he wished he could take her pain away.

"My little sister's under there," Mary said softly, almost monotonously, still transfixed on the grave. "Darling Sybil."

Matthew followed her gaze to the grave, all his own painful memories of the cemetery returning again.

"It's all so wrong. She shouldn't be there."

"I know," was all Matthew could say.

What more could he say to that? He didn't want to add anything that would upset her. Or upset her any more than she was already. Whenever he had done what he thought best, it had been wrong. He seemed to take after his mother in terms of going about things the wrong way. But he never meant to cause any pain, of course he didn't. He loved Mary terribly, and the fact that he had upset her hurt him greatly.

"I saw you talking to Tom this morning."

Matthew looked up, momentarily confused at the change in topic.

"Yes, I went to see him before I left and met him on the landing," he explained slowly. "He asked if he could talk for a moment, so we went into the nursery."

"May I know what it was about?"

Matthew paused cautiously and carefully studied Mary, considering his next words thoughtfully, before beginning gently as he turned away.

"Just what one would expect really: his thoughts...feelings...he needed a shoulder to cry on. We glanced at Sybil for a few moments - Baby Sybil of course," he added quickly, checking her reaction, and he noticed her linking her hands in front of her, rubbing her fingers together fervently, whilst trying to appear subtle. "He's terribly sad. I just feel so helpless -"

"- Of course he's sad," Mary interrupted, with a harsher tone than she'd planned, making them both blink with discomfort and look away. "He has just lost his wife, and the mother of his new-born child. And the one thing he wants...what the family want," she added with a deep breath, "cannot be undone. However hard we wish it could. Sybil's gone."

Matthew didn't know what to add to that. What could he? He had upset her again, when all he wanted to do was take her pain away. He knew how broken she was deep inside. But he knew that Lady Mary would never falter. Her resolve would always remain strong even when she was crumbling inside; his darling Mary. Should he stay by her side here, or did she want him to leave her be?

"Mary, my darling, if there's anything I can do, please ask," he settled for, glancing up from where he was facing Sybil's grave.

Mary finally turned her face towards him, even if her eyes took longer to meet his. He gave her a small smile and Mary had to look away again, away from his warm, loving face. It was too much. Oh Matthew, and his kind heart. Her thoughts trailed back to when he first uttered those words; the moment his voice first warmed her heart, all those years ago.

She could feel the tears boil inside of her and rise up, threatening to explode. She widened her eyes and blinked, praying they didn't fall.

Matthew sensed her change in disposition and swallowed uncomfortably.

"I can leave you, if you prefer," he said sadly, desperately wanting to stay by her side. When she didn't answer, he made to turn around.

"No -"

Matthew froze. Mary was looking at his shoulder.

"Don't leave."

There was vulnerability in Mary's tone, which surprised him. It warmed him, but broke his heart at the same time.

He moved back into his position close beside her, reassured that she was glad of his presence. But he still wished he could ease her pain.

"I'm so glad you're here," Mary breathed, as if the words gave her more strength.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, my darling," he smiled sadly.

Once again, Mary gained the strength to look into the loving eyes of her husband, and met his small smile.

The moment was broken however when Mary blinked and turned her face away again, and Matthew longed to touch her cheek with his hand and turn her towards him, so that he could gaze into her beautiful, deep eyes once more.

"Mary, I'm so sorry for my behaviour that day..."

"Matthew, don't -"

"No, Mary I need to apologise."

"And you did so already many days ago."

"But I need to again."

"You don't need to apologise at all," Mary insisted, leaving Matthew quite stunned and puzzled.

"I know you didn't intend to cause any upset or offence. I know that. Let's not hear any more of it, please."

"I thought I was doing the right thing. What a fool I was."

"You're not a fool, my darling," Mary shook her head. "But at times you can act foolish," she teased with a little smile, a happier one this time.

Matthew couldn't help a small chuckle either.

"I must be more careful then," he said firmly, but with humour in his tone.

"Indeed. Though you wouldn't be yourself if you were. I do understand what you were trying to do."

"I just thought it was right," Matthew explained in exasperation. "Murray was right there and I needed to talk to someone about it. It had been tormenting me for some time. But I did not expect such a reaction from Murray, nor did I expect you to walk in at that moment and hear that. I know that was the last thing you wanted. But there never seems to be the perfect time, and at that moment, it felt like a good time. Time is too precious. Anything can happen at any moment."

"A sort of 'seize the day' idea," Mary commented dryly.

"I suppose," Matthew frowned.

"Matthew I appreciate you taking such a vested interest in the estate, of course I do. But you know how this family embraces change and modernity."

"Hardly ever really."

"Whatever do you mean?" Mary frowned, turning to him.

"My darling, there have been so many examples. Just look at what happened to Sybil. Such an evident conflict of old and new ideas, and look at what happened when we followed the traditional route of an upper-class surgeon."

"That's not fair. Papa had lost some of his confidence in Dr Clarkson's decision making. None of us knew what was best, and certainly not papa."

"That may be, but we know now, don't we."

They both remained silent for a few moments.

"I didn't want to burden anyone," Matthew sighed.

"Because you knew we wouldn't approve."

"Partly," Matthew corrected. "I understand that you have reservations about modernising the running of the estate -"

"- Who says I do?"

"Mary, I know you do," he said gently. "It's your home. But to ensure its survival things have to be managed differently."

"I know that. And I'm not as hesitant as you seem to think, if you recall. But you cannot go behind my father's back in your plans."

"I'm doing no such thing. I was making no plans, my darling. I was just asking Mr Murray his opinion while he was there. I had no idea he had such views and would go on as he did, believe me on that. I just needed to speak to someone that would understand."

"And papa and I can't understand?" She asked dryly.

"That's not what I meant either," he sighed, closing his eyes and staring upwards.

"Papa doesn't deserve this though Matthew. He may have his ways, but he is my father and I respect him."

"But Downton can't survive as it is Mary in the long-term. I have been trying to get him to see that, you know that."

They both turned to look at Sybil's grave once again, and lapsed into silent contemplation.

"I will never forget when Sybil arrived downstairs in her trousers, all those years ago" Matthew laughed softly after a few moments.

"It was quite a shock," Mary smiled. "And papa and granny were beside themselves. She was always very brave. She never cared what people thought."

"She looked up to you," Matthew added.

"No she didn't."

"Well I believe she did."

"She thought I was good person."

"But you are," Matthew stated, slightly confused.

"Not as good as she was."

"You do yourself a great disservice, Lady Mary Crawley. You have one of the biggest hearts I've seen."

Mary could feel herself blush. "Well don't tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation."

"I wouldn't dream of compromising my wife's reputation," he smiled, happier that he could still make her blush.

"Sybil really embraced and epitomised modernity," Matthew said thoughtfully.

"Is that supposed to add to your case?"

"Not entirely," Then he paused. "But Sybil's death reminded me how time is too precious to let pass; that every moment counts. And when I saw Murray, it seemed like a good opportunity to make a start. It helped me view Sybil's death as a chance to move forward. She was all about progress. But I didn't mean to come across as insensitive. I just needed to do something. I believe Sybil would want Downton to move forward and thrive in a new era. But maybe I went about it all wrong."

"Oh Matthew," Mary sighed sadly as she turned to face him. He looked at her dejectedly.

"I love you so much."

Mary smiled and moved closer to him. "You know I do too."

"Papa will come round," Mary advised. "And I'm sure he will value and appreciate all your ideas in time."

"Will you?" Matthew asked, looking at her uncertainly. He couldn't bear moving forward without Mary by his side.

"I was quite impressed by your middle-class ideas about the village and the cottages, if you remember," Mary replied nonchalantly, swaying her shoulders innocently.

"Were you now?" Matthew smirked and moved so that they were now standing towards one another.

"I admire what you said about Sybil, and your desire to move forward, for us, for Downton and our future. But darling, we're not ready, especially my father. So please wait, at least for a little while. I will help you. Right now, I need my husband," she added quietly, fiddling with the front of his coat.

"Whatever you want, Mary," he told her fervently, caressing both her arms comfortingly with his hands. "I will be right here."

Mary moved her hands to his chest, and could feel his heartbeat and smell his aftershave, soothing her.

"We will get through this," he told her firmly, lifting her chin so that she was looking into his eyes.

"I hope so."

Matthew brought her to him then and embraced her tightly, holding her close to him. Mary relished the feel of him protectively cocooning her. She hated feeling that she needed him, but in this moment, and in parts of her life, she did. And right now, she needed someone to hold her. Although it was in the cemetery, it didn't feel wrong. Sybil knew how much she loved Matthew. How much she always loved Matthew.

She could draw some inspiration from Sybil, they both could, and look to the future. But right now, her family needed her. But she also needed her husband. How thankful she was for him.

"Matthew?" She said softly, as she pulled away to look at him, though they were still in a delicate embrace.

"Yes, my love," he smiled warmly, caressing her cheek with his own.

"Walk home with me."

"Of course."

No matter who initiated it, their lips joined together, tenderly as first, but then with much more passion and ardor, both losing themselves in one another as they clung on for dear life.

Oh how she missed her husband and how he missed his wife. She had distanced herself from him all week, but now more than ever she realised how much she missed him, needed him, wanted him. But not here. Not in front of her sister.

"Darling..." Mary gasped, as she reluctantly pulled away, but kept their foreheads joined.

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't apologise," Mary shushed, placing a finger over his lip, which he tried painfully hard not to kiss. "You have no need. No need at all."

And then they both giggled softly together, still retaining some decorum though as they remembered where they were.

Mary turned her head and Matthew did the same, and cheek to cheek, they observed Sybil's grave again, this time holding one another closely.

"I want to cherish her memory. For us, the family, and for Tom and baby Sybil," she said solemnly.

"And you will," Matthew nodded confidently. "We will. Together."

Matthew took one of her hands and kissed the top of it, treasuring it in his own.

"Let's go home," Mary said.

"Of course," Matthew answered, holding his arm out for her to take.

"I love you," Mary breathed, as she took his arm.

"I know you do."

They both smiled at one another as they walked out of the cemetery. Mary took one last glance back at Sybil's grave.

"And I love you"

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_**Thank you! :)**_

_**Reviews are welcome**_


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